


Helltalia

by JudeIsFanboyTrash



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abusive Relationship, I got a request, Italy Snapped, Luciano - Freeform, M/M, Maybe some non-consent Idk yet, More fucking corny names, Torture, attempt at a long story, gerita - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 20:44:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17732351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JudeIsFanboyTrash/pseuds/JudeIsFanboyTrash
Summary: Italy snapped after learning the truth about Germany- now he's out for revenge using said boyfriend, Austria and France to satisfy whatever broke inside his head. Will they be able to endure the torture and save each other & Feliciano from himself or will they die there? Rated M for Graphic violence, torture and sexual content





	1. What The Hell-talia?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Americaissuperloud](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Americaissuperloud).



Now you’re probably wondering how the hell I -Germany- ended up -getting captured and chained into a basement with only Austria, France and our Torturer- North (Veneziano) Italy. Yes you just read that right, Feliciano is torturing us. And none of us know why.

Well that’s the thing really- we each individually know reasons Feli would be mad at us. But none of us know why he would be mad at all three of us. The sad thing is the only mercy we get is from Vene’s notoriously harsh 2p named Luciano. He only stopped Feli, because he still cared about our 2ps and you can’t have a 2p without a 1p- one dies and so does the other. Which is why this sadistic serial killer was our savior- he’d bring us food so we wouldn’t starve to death (though that doesn’t mean we weren’t close)- water when we severely dehydrated, and stop Feliciano from killing us while he tortured us.

I looked down at my poor frame- what had once been lean muscle had deteriorated to skin and bone. And Austria and France were much worse off than I was- You see they weren’t in as good of health before this and Italy hates them more than he does me.

Unlike the other two I know exactly why I’m in here- I told him about how I didn’t remember my childhood. Prussia once told me that I hadn’t been born Germany, I was the Romano to Veneziano at first. I’d had more yellow hair and my accent had been more of an Italian and German mix than the one I currently sported. My nation name had been The Holy Roman Empire, and I dissolved during a war- that’s where the similarities to the Italies ended. Instead of being the nation version of identical twins like the Italies or America and Canada are (a few years isn’t anything for a potentially immortal nation after all) I was my brother, we didn’t make up two parts of a whole.

We were a whole. One in the same.

That’s why I don’t remember much of my childhood. 

When I told Feliciano- the man I love…. He snapped. He started laughing- not his normal laugh this laugh was hysterical, filled with an agonizing sounding pain. Tears ran down his face as he laughed and laughed- he continued to laugh as I sat there in shock- in so much shock I missed him pull out his gun and knock me out with it.

While I was knocked out- I started to remember more, Italy was with me at Austria’s house when we were little. At the time I thought he was a girl- but it was definitely him. Him and I were kissing, right before I left for the war that dissolved me. I promised to come back to him.

When I woke up to the pain of a whip clashing against my stomach I gulped for air.

Italy smiled at me, “I told you not to keep me waiting.”


	2. Fucking Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malocchio was horny and wanted to test his lover- Ludwig was not having a good wake up call.

This got way more sexual than I intended but that shit happens when you’re as mentally fucked as I am right now. Enjoy.  
-Obsessed

I woke up covered in blood, the whip Vene used lying at my feet stiff with my dried blood. I must’ve blacked out at some point. My arms were so tired from being strapped to the wall, a normal human would’ve died by now. I sigh counting my new wounds to pass the time.

I hear a sigh and look up, I’m surprised to hunger in the deranged eyes looking over my cold, malnourished form. 

“How’d you enjoy your nap Germany?”

I flinch at the ice in his- no it’s- tone, there’s no way that thing is Feliciano or Veneziano. I smile, asking him,

“You like what you see?” 

Hoping my smug tone will let this shell of the man I love keep his hands off me in such an intimate way and continue logical punishment.

Unfortunately, he saw right through this and plays the game back, “Mmmhm,” he hums, 

“Sì, very much. I can- show you… If you want.”

In that moment, him stalking toward me I want to cry and turn back time to make things right. When he puts his hand around my cold, battered shaft and the other on my thigh- it shrinks further, not wanting this version of the man it once lived to to be near it.

Of course, this doesn’t last long as this shell remembers how to manipulate parts of the human body as well as his non-broken old self used to. I feel sick with myself- being helpless and yet still craving this touch as the monster doing it to me looks so much like my love. When a whimper comes out of my dehydrated mouth, Malocchio -the name this broken Italy has given to himself- bends my shaft hard, bringing tears to my eyes.

“How can you betray your precious Feli like that? How can you let a monster- even one that looks like him bring you such pleasure? You know, that’s part of the reason I’m here… You hurt him so bad, his mind let me come out to play, to protect the poor bastard.” The man rants, in the same voice of his love. 

I sigh in relief that the gentle treatment was over, it messes with my head too much. Next I found myself eyes wide in shock as a spike, one of those ones like on an 80s outfit, is moved from Malocchio’s hand to my ass.

Once the tip reached my entrance, I realized what was wrong, one no lube, two the thing wasn’t as soft as the 80s outfits, this thing was wide sharp hard plastic. And it was about to be forced up my ass.

It felt like hell, don’t get me wrong- but the dominance coming from this hot little body of my lover- it was kind of a turn on.

Don’t worry- I’m disgusted in myself too. 

As the spike was being forced into my body, my feet pulled apart by new ropes, that must’ve been added while I was passed out. About an inch inside now, the thing was starting to flare outward. Being that the plastic was so hard and there was no lube or preparation- I was on my way to bleeding if I wasn’t already. 

The dark laugh of the man I loved as he tortured me like this kept me from passing out, I wondered if I would live through this.

I wiggled my hips, trying to at least use the blood for some kind of lubrication, taking my actions as a sign of enjoyment the Italian male chokes out a laugh.

“Everyone always knew you were kinky but wow… I underestimated you.”

Quickly removing the sharp spike, he shoves his dick hard into my ass, causing tears to leak from my eyes. AFterall, he just ripped new wounds and caused the ones from before to widen. When he started roughly thrusting, I felt pain- the burning kind like salt in a wound and realised he hadn’t put on a condom so any and all of his precum and cum in my ass could go into and infect my wounds.

His hands gripped my hips, with enough force to bruise, when you add his nails in the mix you can probably guess about how much I was bleeding. It’s when Kuro came in with piercing supplies I knew I was in trouble. 

You see- Kuro, unlike his counterpart Kiku- was very into tattoos and piercings and rape-like porn, probably thinking this was such he wouldn’t lift a finger to help me.

He brought out clamps, having so much practice he needed no marks to make a straight piercing. He took a 16 gage and put it at the slit on the end of my dick. I said a silent prayer and barely flinched as he shoved the curved needle through, and put the curved jewelry into the new hole in my dick, it left enough room for peeing and such, but was going to be a pain while healing during anything. The other end of the barbell popped out under the lip of my dickhead.

At this point I was crying silently, from the pain of the needle through such a sensitive area and the fact Malocchio had just cum inside of me and hot, salty sperm definitely didn’t feel good inside of my torn asshole. I wondered how things were going for the others…


	3. The Past and Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IDK anymore, I knew I needed to update though... enjoy if you can!

I woke up to Francis chained down in front of me, his usually long blonde hair was shaven into a buzz cut, his body obviously malnourished. His stubble now a full beard and his normally bright blue eyes had lost their normal shine. Before I could ask him how he had shown up, Malocchio was there, ready to explain. 

He smiled, “Miss me?”

I held back bile, knowing the punishment for it would be terrible, as well as the dehydration. He took this as me disrespecting him.

“You dare ignore me? Do you want another treatment like last time? Or would you rather watch?” He smiled.

“You always were into some kinky shit, maybe I’ve been too kind, but usually you enjoyed watching more than anything. You’ve been such a good boy lately, you could think of it as a reward.” he sounded excited while my mind was processing my disgust.

Francis, having just woke up, looked at me with fear in his eyes, I see he has a few new tattoos and piercings. I blink twice, a sign we had set up together before the three of us were split part, saying it wasn’t safe to talk for the moment.

Malo, as he likes to be called insisted, “I have some food for you two good boys.”

I knew it would be a trap but the human half of me was screaming for nourishment. As I took grateful sips of the soup I was being given, I realized the taste wasn’t normal. I would later learn that this was due to a generous amount of windex added to the broth. As we were not at war, we could fortunately or not you decide not die. 

As I started convulsing with nausea Malo laughed, forcing France to finish the soup. It felt like my insides were burning. My veins were bulging out of my paper thin skin, my eyes seeming to pop out of their sockets. At that very moment Malo decided he would torture us more, he brought out an old dull knife and started with France. 

We could see tears running down his face as he carved the words ‘bastard-murderer’ into the frenchman’s bony back, with the rusty old butcher knife he held. I started to realize why France had been brought here. He had killed my original self. It was then that I knew we would have to get out of there.

I wondered how Roderich was fairing.

 

~~~POV RODDY~~~

As I looked at the skin, carefully peeled off my thighs I wondered what I had done. Italy was now Malo, Malocchio based off an old Italian superstition, meaning evil eye. He told me I was selfish, rude, stuck-up, abusive and so many other things I lost count.

I wonder if it was because he needed a father and I instead treated him as if he were a pre-trained servant. He could have done much worse than me but also much better. I mean I could’ve put him through much worse of course, but the poor spoiled brat didn’t know what to do when starting as a servant at my home.

To encourage a quick change in personality, I made sure he got flogged each time he messed up one of my things, and the more he complained about the food the nastier and slighter his portions. 

Was I abusive? Maybe. But was it effective? Yes.

As for how the other two ended up here- I’d guess it has something to do with HRE. I just hope that Malo doesn’t hurt them too much. 

~~~Back to the other two~~~

I felt the dull pain of a needle being slid into my vein and the burn of the unknown drug being sent into my bloodstream. My body relaxed into my captors grip as the drugs calmed my brain- the drugs were a kindness, they kept us from passing out as Malocchio slowly carved layer through layer of skin, until the point he hit muscle and could peel it away from the flesh.

Whenever we get notes from him they’re rewritten on our skin. I just hope he’ll leave soon.

I get lost in my mind sometimes, remembering so much I’ve done to him. When we were younger, I always liked to show him just how good his curl could make him feel, I knew it was wrong -I was a hormonal teen taking advantage of a little lost soul. No one ever caught me- well besides Holy Rome- he made sure I would never touch the poor tot again. 

Sometimes I wonder if there is forgiveness for the things I’ve done, I never wanted to do so many of them. My bosses tortured me and I suffered from their mental impairments. Every country has done it’s fair share of awful things but they fought the whole time, I gave up. I look up at Ludwig, the handsome young country and wonder if he remembers that I killed him. Well, Holy Rome that is. When Holy Rome was taken by Prussia when found on the battlefield he was in the midst of dying. Prussia took the remaining territory and brought Germany into the world, still HRE but also not.

Italy was of course heartbroken, and never found out that Germany and HRE were one in the same person. Germany found out late in life finally thinking to ask Hungary about these little fragment memories he has, he’d thought they were just random memories of a movie or something but she informed him otherwise. 

As it turns out Prussia’s favorite broom they have, happens to be the very one that Feliciano gave Holy Rome, along with his panties, which they don’t know the location of to this day.

I watch as the German grits his teeth against the pain of the skin being peeled from his thigh muscle. 

Malocchio and Luciano leave, leaving us the ability to plan for escape.


	4. This Is Why

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I finally got a little inspiration after a sad GerIta fic, I wanted to try and explain some of Malocchio's reasons for how he is and why he chose Germany as a victim. It's not much but it's here.

~~POV DEUTSCHLAND~~

I wake up to burning pain in my muscles, I smile against the feeling of my nerves warning me I’m in danger. I know it won’t last long. Once my vision clears enough, I realise the pain is coming from Malocchio. His eyes are glazed over with joy, staring at my leg- a large fishhook protruding from it.

“Magst du es?” He giggles joyously.

“Sehr viel.” I say, only wincing slightly.

I wonder how he’ll take it.

He laughs, “Do you know all of the reasons you’re here, the list is quite long.”

I lower my head, “No, sir” I say knowing he’ll like the formality.

He laughs bitterly, “Let’s start at the beginning, Holy Rome.”

*flashback*  
The sky is blue and cloudless, the grass is green and bright. The flowers bright and sunny, the air warm and light. (Okay I’ll stop with the poetry speak now) It was the meadow, our meadow. I was saying goodbye to my sweet Italy, I thought her face was so beautiful. Later I realized how beautiful he truly was, crushing. 

“This is where it started, The Napoleonic Wars. You promised you’d come back to me, you died. Your older brother secretly revived you, and over two hundred years later, we meet again.”

I swallow remembering, I’ve loved you ever since the 900’s. 

My breath catches, Promise me you’ll come back Holy Rome. 

Of course Italy.

I’ll have lots of treats ready for when you do!

As Malo starts to laugh aloud I realise I’ve been quietly crying. 

“You think this hurts you? Just wait.”

The time starts to pick up speed before slowing. When it starts to move normally again, I see Feliciano laying on his bed sobbing. Holy Rome, you promised! I loved you! You were supposed to come back!

“I was pathetic, wasn’t I? So caught up over such a poor imitation of my grandfather.”

Looking back up at the screen, this time it’s in first person point of view, from Feli’s view. As I begin to yell at the Italian for having such poor military knowledge, I can hear how scared he is of me. I feel the pain and suffering that resurfaces his mind when I yelled.

I yell louder, thinking how poor of an excuse he was for a country.

“Guess what,” Malocchio says darkly, “you got your wish.”

I calm myself, We have a plan, when we pass it on to Austria we’ll get out. Just don’t do anything suspicious in the meantime.

I see Italians, dying at the the hands of my military, so many lives. I see Feliciano inspect scars in the mirror, crying out, as he feels each death. I see my boss order me to attack Northern Italy, before they attack us. I see myself visit him, acting as if everything is fine.

Leaving, with tears in my eyes. Morning comes, I collect my men and weapons. We march, slaughtering so many. I see the scars carving themselves into Feliciano’s skin. I see his mind break, his innocent self retreating, the same self that presented itself in episode 23.5 coming out. His eyes dead, no longer caring of himself. The pain of knowing the best way you can help your friends is to be their sacrifice.

I see Italy, the broken one, becoming more and more resentful. I watch as his brain melds itself into what it is today. Next thing I know I’m out cold.


	5. Payback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malo, getting sick of Germany's unwillingness to speak decides to introduce some familiar methods into their 'playtime'.
> 
> Warnings for: Mentions of WW2, slightly graphic descriptions of injuries, torture, my writing, and yeah- read at your own risk.

I dream about Italy writhing with pain, I hear him crying out for me in hope that somebody -anybody- could help him. I woke up crying, I found the bastard, fragmented form of my old friend standing over me laughing.

“What are you crying about, you have no right.” he spits at me spitefully.

I don’t respond, I don’t think I can.

“Idiota, what did I say about answering me?” he says backhanding me harshly.

The noise that came from the slap was his only response.

He smirks joyously, “If you won’t talk, maybe I can make you make some other kind of noise.”

He goes into the corner of the room where he keeps all of his ‘toys’ the torture instruments he’s collected over the years.

He ponders aloud, “What should I do to you first, we’re not at war so you won’t die. -That means I won’t have to hold back, but should I start with medieval methods or more contemporary ones? No comment? Hm, let’s start with giving you a taste of your own medicine.”

He brought over a stick, much like a thick wooden baton. As he took aim at my knees, I clenched my teeth to prepare for the pain I knew was coming. As the wood made contact with my knee cap I felt and heard a crunch. Tears leaked from my eyes continuously as blood ran down my leg from the broken skin. This treatment persisted, my other knee shattering just as quickly. He then proceeds to swing for my ribs, kidneys, arms, and eventually head.

~~~

I wake up in an ice-bath. I can feel my body trying to heal, hoping for their sake my citizens aren’t being affected by this. When I finally opened my eyes, I see him holding something in a fire. I move a little trying to ignore the aching numbness of the cold.

Having noticed this Malo turns saying, “Oh good you’re awake. I was about to wake you up by starting our next… game we’ll call it as your people did.”

He comes up to me with a pair of pliers, small metal pieces similar to toothpicks, a hammer, and a pot. I don’t try to pull away when he takes my hand, him ignoring my wince. I try not to scream when he takes the metal things, shoving each under a nail, and hammers it into my finger, separating the middle of the nail from the nail bed. Blood drips to the floor and I try to mentally escape, but as the process repeats I find myself remembering the torture of Italian resistance members during the Second World War.

Once my hands are done being staked under the nails, he puts them in the pot. The pot, being full of water, and just taken from over the fire is boiling. I try to focus on how cold my body is as I feel my skin start to separate from the muscle. He pours the water in with me making the tub overflow. Most of the ice melts, my legs are scorched. 

 

Malo, smiling sickly, pulls out his pilers and tugs on my nails, they fall straight to the floor. When he grabs my hand with his, he squeezes mine tightly. My skin leaving my hand, as he pulls his away. 

At least he’s not with the others, I think grasping for something else to focus on. We’ll try to escape soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey people, I have no clue if you could tell but funny enough, I wrote this after a long conversation with my family about religion and sin and judgement. As an LGBT/GRSM person and a decidedly neutral skeptic, I was trying very hard to understand their view, I don't really believe in anything (I think) It's kinda like an I don't think we can know so I don't care I just want to be a good person thing. But I started to feel that familiar self hatred that every church I've ever been to has made me feel and decided that it plus my current Tokyo Ghoul consumption could be used as inspiration.
> 
> Hope it wasn't too bad. -Fanboy

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so first off I don't own Hetalia. Second this story is a request from Americaissuperloud, so you might want to go check out their work too.
> 
> This is really short but I wanted to establish the baseline and get this out of the way. This story will be written in four arcs, each of the first three arcs is a different point of view, explaining how they got there and what torture they are going through as well as what they are witnessing happening to the others. The fourth arc will Figure out a way to restore North Italy enough to let them go and continue his Relationship in a more healthy way with Germany than what will be occurring in this story. With all of that being said enjoy.


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